Sex-pollen didn't make them do it

It’s not like Bruce is actively seeking Clark out. He’s just aware. So that he can avoid him. In the end Bruce’s precautions are not necessary: on rare occasions when he attends Metropolis events or a journalist from The Daily Planet is invited to a Gotham one, it’s never Clark who covers them. It’s not even that surprising - Clark writes about other news, usually Superman-related. Speaking of - Bruce couldn’t think of a worse timing for the freak of nature to appear. Bruce has almost finished collecting data about the pollen’s ingredients, which is going to tremendously help with an ongoing research, but his usual cover of being a rich and stupid billionaire having fun with a group of hopeful models is this close to being blown. Bruce sighs and doesn’t attempt to free himself from a pile of girls when Superman flies in and hovers too close for comfort. For all intents and purposes Bruce is just having some fun during an after-party in Lex’s mansion. And an appearance of such a high-profile unwanted guest as Superman is bringing too much attention to Bruce’s activities. The plan was to sneak into Lex’s basement, drunkenly searching for a toilet and retrieve a chip with new data. Superman’s interference is going to alert security any minute now and quite possibly, knowing how paranoid Lex is (not that he is wrong), everyone would be very politely sent home. Bruce thinks of the quickest way to get rid of an alien. “Care to join us, sweet bums?”, Bruce is calculating what the hell Superman is doing here in the first place and what would make him leave. “I was here for an urgent…”, Superman started speaking at the same time as Bruce did and now he caught up on Bruce’s words, “What? No”. It’s almost cute how baffled he looks. How human his reaction is. How pure. Bruce wants him gone. Now. “Are you coming or going?” Bruce isn’t afraid to use the cheesiest line to get Superman out of his hair. Bruce winks for a good measure. He hates this day and this moment in particular. Girls around him have already acclimated to the presence of another man in the room, so they resume their usual routine of touching and rubbing and sliding. It’d be distracting, but lately Bruce feels immune to any kind of seduction. Now he just wants them all gone. It’s impossible, but a man can dream. Superman is still hovering in front of them. What a show-off. Bruce’s patience is wearing thin. He pats the space by his side and looks up at Superman invitingly. At least he hopes he looks invitingly and not as murderous and crazy as he feels. Superman finally moves from his spot. His sneer is too harsh for his symmetrical, proportional face (Bruce wouldn’t call it beautiful or gorgeous, besides he can’t quite put his finger on what is off with that face, but something is, something annoying, flickering, like a shadow movement that you noticed in your periphery but can’t prove it was there). Superman's look is full of contempt. “No, I’m good.” Bruce makes a disappointed face. Superman snorts and Bruce is again taken aback by how human and normal that is. Superman pauses to take a look at a scene in front of him - no doubt judging everyone as a prude prick that he is - then shakes his head and takes off as Lex’s men stumble into the room, weapons drawn, and Bruce feel like obliterating everyone around him, with Superman holding a special place in his heart. He’d murder him on spot if it were physically possible. Bruce is eager to find out. The chip with collected data appears at the research center the next day. Bruce feels less murderous, but not enough to stop plotting Superman’s untimely demise. Just to pass time between being a parody of a rich spoiled man and a gloomy, angry vigilante. There’s no bite to Bruce’s daydreaming. It’s just easier to make schemes of capturing Superman than to think of what most definitely didn’t really happen and was a humongous, terrible mistake. No, not going there. Superman is a safe topic and Bruce is sticking to it. Bruce is definitely not keeping tabs on Clark’s whereabouts in Gotham. He just happens to know about the visit and to be patrolling nearby when a 911-call from an anonymous source alerts him to a possible Clark-related emergency. The man was in an abandoned warehouse when there was an explosion. A worker, who was with him at a time, managed to escape before parts of the building collapsed. Stupid, brave reporter didn’t. Batman is there in a record time. He scans the building’s structure and finds a heat source. He knows that the police are coming, but he’s not leaving the idiot’s life in their hands. Bruce uses the top window to get in and carefully glides down to a dusty form lying on a ground under a piece of cement. Clark, miraculously, seems fine, maybe slightly annoyed with this predicament. Bruce feels a fond smile forming on his lips, and he wipes it before it has a chance to appear and give him away. Clark is breathing steadily and Bruce is relieved that the reporter is okay. Now he’ll just have to move that… “Stop!” Clark’s yelp makes Bruce freeze in his tracks and look around for possible danger. Belatedly he notices a blinking device attached to a column nearby. Another bomb, most likely a movement-activated one. As the warning sounds of the device quicken, Bruce rushes to free Clark so that he’d get a chance of escaping, and if he’ll cover him, the Bat suit will absorb most of the blow. As Bruce moves toward Clark, he notices a myriad of emotions passing on the other man's face: fear (understandable), anger (talk about being ungrateful), resignation (well, this is new) and determination. Bruce doesn’t have time to analyze the last one, since he notices that the cement wall started to move before he even had a chance to get to it, and then Clark is hugging him and then they’re standing on the roof. Oh, wait, a very important correction, they’re flying over the roof, and Clark’s breathing as steady as his hands feel. Clark lowers them on the far side of the building, away from the smoke and rubber and dust. Bruce is processing new information, filing it away and backtracking everything that he knew. It’s definitely too much. It’s infuriating. Yet Bruce wouldn’t trade it for the world. Bruce stares at the man in front of him. Clark is avoiding his eyes. He looks defeated and sad. Like he just lost a very important battle. So Bruce does the only thing that his shaken body wants to do - he touches Clark’s face with his gloved hand. It’s an awkward gesture, but it makes Clark look up and pause. “Oh.” Clark squints, then lowers his gaze to Bruce’s lips, as if to make sure, and huffs a quiet laugh. Then he straightens and looks Bruce in the eyes. “We’ve got to talk.” Bruce wants to roll his eyes at the seriousness of Clark's tone. It’s he who should be worried or angry. Instead, he’s calm and maybe a little bit excited. He’d never admit it, of course. So he rumbles, “Sure,” and prepares to get away, when a hand stops him. “Bruce,” there is a hint of a question there. Clark looks defiant and vulnerable at the same time. Bruce isn’t made for these types of conversations. And he doesn’t need this, whatever it is. It’s too much effort. It’s too complicated and dangerous. It’s unnecessary. Yet Clark keeps waiting, the sirens blaring in the distance, and Bruce feels like he’s taking a step off a skyscraper when he says “It was never a mistake.” And if the way Clark’s face softens at these words is any indication, Bruce is going to be caught by Superman in his free fall.